


Vigilance I: Home is Where the Heart is

by nightinngales



Series: Vigilance [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Mod References, Modded Skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightinngales/pseuds/nightinngales
Summary: Introduction/Prologue: Eres' father dies unexpectedly and leaves her with an estate.
Series: Vigilance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585780
Comments: 9
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This act is technically optional. You can proceed to Act 2 if you would rather not know Eres' background, but this act provides an introduction to her character, as well as her estate and several side characters that will be referenced later in the series. I do recommend reading all acts in order, but you won't miss anything major if you decide to skip this one as it's just a prologue.

ACT I  
CHAPTER I

“Hey, you,” the man stops about a meter away, shifting his weight uncertainly. “Do you… have room for another?”

Eres looks him up and down, taking in his ragged appearance. He wears a patchwork of mismatched armor, with a pauldron on one shoulder so big that it keeps slipping every time he moves his arm. Beneath it, his body is thin and lanky, and covered with grime and dirt from head to toe. Even so, there is a sword at his belt, and one of his hands hovers uncertainly near the hilt.

The fact that he approached her with it sheathed speaks more to his inexperience than anything else.

She meets his eyes, and raises one of her hands—and the man jumps, pulling his sword clumsily from his sheath.

“Hey, no funny business!”

Eres ignores him. The small orb of light she conjured flies past the man’s shoulder and comes to a stop just above two figures hunched in the darkness behind him. Their cover blown, the larger of the two figures shrinks back, pulling the other behind them.

She feels metal at her throat.

“Don’t even think about it! I’ll—”

“Relax,” Eres gently pushes the blade from her throat. She can see in his eyes that he’s likely never actually killed someone with his own hands, and he certainly didn’t seem to be the kind of man able to run through an unarmed woman. “I’m unarmed.”

“What’s that matter? You’re a mage! I saw it with my own two eyes!”

She rolls her eyes at him and sighs. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” She glances at the figures still crouched in the bushes. “Tell them to come over. There’s plenty of stew here to feed all of you.”

The man blinks down at her, hesitant. Eres reaches over the fire and lifts the lid of the pot hanging over it. Given the way his eyes snap immediately to it once the smell reaches him, she knows that it must have been some time since he has eaten.

But still, he hesitates.

Eres, as impatient as she is, cannot blame him for his caution. He has a family to take care of, after all. To prove her good will, she ladles some of the stew into her own bowl and makes a show of eating it.

The man watches her carefully for a long few minutes, then, shifting, he turns his head to look over his shoulder and jerks his head in a nod, beckoning. Slowly, Eres sees the figures at the edge of the darkness straighten, and approach.

For their sake, Eres makes sure the orb of light hovers just overhead until they are within the range of the fire. Then, she allows it to dissipate on its own. It’s a bit too bright of a light to have up close, especially with her sensitivity.

The man still watches her suspiciously, but he does motion for his wife to approach the pot. Eres hands the woman a bowl and spoon, and allows her to ladle out her own portion.

The woman is a bit scrawny for her taste, Eres decides. Her cheeks are a bit sunken, with dark circles beneath her eyes. But she has a pleasant enough smile when she thanks Eres for her generosity. And that smile is even more pleasant and warm when she directs it at the much smaller figure beside her—a young girl, no older than ten summers.

The wife serves the child first. The man, while she is preoccupied, pours a bowl for her as well and sets it in front of her, murmuring in soft tones that she must rest while she can. Eres does not comment on this—she knows she was not meant to hear it.

Then the man finally allows himself a bowl, and Eres sees that, after feeding his wife and child, his own bowl is but a meager portion.

Eres tilts her head, watching him interact with his family. The young girl hides behind her mother’s shoulder, mostly, but she sends smiles at her father as she eats. She has his eyes, except they still twinkle with innocence and cheer, despite their dire situation. The man, even when the wife rubs her stomach with satisfaction, lifts her bowl up and insists that she eat more. Eres can see the concern in his eyes.

And then the woman shifts, and pulls the bundle from her back.

Eres can only just see the tuft of fine, blonde hair poking out of the thick cloth before the woman presses the bundle to her breast.

They do not know it, and they likely never will, but she had heard that infant’s coos in the night. It was perhaps the only reason she had allowed the man to get so close in the first place.

“I never caught your name.”

“Yosef,” the man swallows a mouthful of stew. By now, what he eats is barely more than thin broth, compared to the hearty mixture his wife and children had gotten. Eres reaches into her pack and pulls out a piece of bread. When he eyes it suspiciously, she rolls her eyes, tears off a chunk, and eats it in front of him. He takes it, then, and breaks it into pieces – offering it first to his wife and daughter before he eats any of it himself.

He is a good man, Eres decides.

“This is my wife, Johanna.” Johanna smiles, with tired eyes. “And my daughter, Julia.” Julia shrinks behind her mother’s shoulder, but wiggles her little fingers at Eres. Eres smiles back at her, mimicking the motion. “And… my son, Neil.”

“Thank you, for helping us,” Johanna says softly. She sways gently in her seat, rocking the tiny infant back to sleep. “It’s… been a while since we had a real meal.”

Yosef’s expression darkens, and he looks away from the woman beside him.

“What’s happened, that you would be travelling at night with such a young family?”

“Rebels is what happened,” Yosef’s face darkens further, anger sparking in his eyes. “Those damned Stormcloaks—and the Imperials, too! We had nothing to do with it. I had a farm, you know,” he says to her. “It wasn’t much, but, it’d been in the family for generations. It was small, but it was ours. And we were doing just fine by ourselves! Then those Rebels…” He shakes his head.

“They came to us a fortnight ago, demanding that we supply their troops with food. We barely had enough for ourselves—we couldn’t afford to feed a whole damned army! I told them no,” Yosef sighs, and looks down. “They burned down our house. Our fields… even the silo and the mill. They burned it all down.”

Eres had her own reasons for hating the Stormcloaks, but this was a new low for them.

“I’m sorry,” Eres says. She can offer little more than condolences. “For your loss.”

Yosef took a breath, and the darkness faded from his eyes. “It’s alright. I’ve got my family… a beautiful wife and daughter and a brand new baby boy… I’m glad it was my farm they burned, and not my family. I should be thankful for what I have left. We can always build another farm. I can’t build a new family.”

Technically, he could, Eres thinks, but she’s sure that’s beyond the point he’s making.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here.” She tells them. “If you want.”

“We should… keep going,” he says haltingly. “Need to find a place to shelter up…”

She raises a brow at him. “Winter will be upon us sooner rather than later. The nights are getting colder.” She looks pointedly at the infant boy sleeping soundly in his mother’s arms. “Do you see that building over there? The old keep?”

Yosef squints in the direction she points. It must be hard to see for a human in the dark. “A little,” he says after a moment. “But only barely.”

“It was my father’s,” Eres explains. “He left it to me when he died. But it’s been abandoned for some time. It needs a lot of work.” The ‘keep’ was quite small as far as keeps go, though certainly geared more towards military occupation than a family.

“But,” she continues, “it’s shelter. Better than you might find if you keep travelling,” she peers at the small boy again, “and should you really risk it with such a young child with you?”

Eres can see the wheels in his head beginning to turn, but he is still reluctant. She cannot blame him, but she also knows – and _he_ knows – that this is the best choice for him to make. Every night he spends out in the cold with his infant boy is a night that child might fall sick and die.

“You can winter here, if you like,” Eres tells him. “There’s more than enough space, and if you’d offer me a hand with some of the carpentry now and then, I would appreciate it.”

“We don’t have any coin,” the man says wearily. He looks as though he wants to accept, but doesn’t expect it to be an option. “We can’t pay.”

“I didn’t ask for pay, did I?” She retorts. “You said you had a farm.” He nods. “Then I assume you’ve had to build fences and the like before?” Another nod. “Then, you can help me with some fences, some repairs around the Keep—that will be how you pay me.”

“Is—” he looks at his wife, whose eyes shine with a bit of hope. “Is that really alright?”

“You don’t have to be here permanently,” she reminds him. “It’s just for the winter. I’m sure you’ll find ways to earn your keep, and your kids will be safer for strong walls around them.”

“I…” The man swallows, and nods. “Thank you. But if that’s your Keep, then why are you out here?”

“Ah,” she should have known he would ask. “The chimney in there is blocked, and it was nice out. I have to cook outside for now until I get it swept clean.”

“I can do that,” he insists, and she smiles at him.

“Not tonight, though. Tonight, you and your family will bathe.” She stands, wiping the dust and dirt from her trousers. “The Keep might be a bit dusty, but I don’t want mud and grime in the beds. There’s a basin in the basement. I’ll heat it up for you and find some spare clothes for you to wear.”

The man stands to follow her, gathering his family up beside him. Eres leans down only to douse the flames of the fire, but she is sure to light a torch before she does so. Her magic makes many people uncomfortable, and these folk are no exception.

Eres leads them inside the Keep, and shows them how to enter and exit the Keep without having to open the portcullis. It’s too large a door to open with just one person without magic, but there is a side passage that is near invisible to anyone who isn’t looking for it.

Eres climbs the stairs to the second floor, and shows them first where her own room is. It is, as every room, dilapidated and fairly unused, but there is at least evidence that she has started to clean it. She shows them so they will know how to find her if they need to.

Then she crosses to the other side of the hall, quite a few yards away, and unlocks the door to another room she has not yet done much more than basic cleaning in. She has cleared it of the worst of the cobwebs and dust, but it is still very much a mess.

“There’s only one bed,” she says. “But it’s plenty big for all of you. And we can bring up the children’s beds from one of the other rooms tomorrow morning, when there’s light.”

“Thank you,” Johanna places a hand gently upon Eres’ shoulder. Even as slight as Johanna is, she is still taller than Eres. “For helping us.”

“You have a child with you,” Eres shrugs. “I could hardly leave you out in the cold.” But, speaking of… “I should warn you. This keep is heated by way of magic. You won’t notice it, and it won’t harm you, but it is there.”

Eres points to a pair of sigils marked on the wall, next to the door. “Those sigils will control the temperature. For now, as it’s only me, I’ve only been heating rooms individually. Just press this one to make it warmer,” she points to the one that looks almost like an arrow pointing upward. “The other will make it colder. The halls, however, are unheated. So I would stay in the room at night unless you need to leave.”

“I see,” Yosef eyes the sigils suspiciously. “How will I know it works? I don’t have magic.”

“Press your hand upon it, and the stone will respond. The warmer the stone is, the air in the room will match it. Just find something that is comfortable for you.”

Reluctantly, he does press his hand against it, and jerks away as it warms beneath his touch. “This is very strange.”

“Perhaps, but it keeps us from having to use the chimneys for now. When they’re clean, you’re more than welcome to build a fire. I wouldn’t recommend it now, unless you feel like suffocating.”

Perhaps a poor joke, but Johanna does chuckle. Yosef presses his hand against the stone again for a few more moments, until he seems satisfied with what he feels. Eres can feel the temperature of the room rising to match the sigil. She can also feel the tug on her own magical power, and knows that she will be more tired in the morning than usual. Heating a room does not take much energy, but doing it for long periods of time would drain anyone. She will have to see about making a trip to Rorikstead. It would be better to use soul gems for the heat than her own magic, but for now this will have to do.

“Come, I’ll show you where the basin is.”

Eres leads them down the corridor, to the same set of stairs they had climbed to reach this hall. She takes it down one flight, and then a second, and lights the torches as she goes. It would be easier to use magelight, but having an extra room to heat through the night means that she must conserve her energy where she can.

The basement, like the rest of the Keep, is built from stone masonry. The floor is cold beneath her feet, but the room is far too large for her to attempt heating it along with everything else.

“It’s a bit cold here, but the water will be warm.” She had meant this bath for herself, before, but they are far filthier than her. She can wait until tomorrow morning and bathe when she’s rested.

The basin, too, is constructed of stone, at least ten feet in diameter. From one side of the pool extends an aqueduct in the floor, with serene, clear water flowing easily within it.

The filtration system, thankfully, is something that is powered by soul gems, and one of the first things she had put in place upon arriving. It provided clean water for the basin from the small lake nearby, and cycled it through. The aqueduct led directly outside, and Eres knew it to drop off over a small cliff that drained into the lake. There was a grate at the bottom of the basin that allowed water to enter from the outside, and within that was a magical filter that ensured that the water was clean. Of all the magical constructs she has seen within the Keep so far, the basin and its filtration system is perhaps the most complicated. Even if she had formal training from the College, she is not sure she could reproduce it herself, or even understand exactly how it works. All she knows is that a single black soul gem powers it, and that it must be replaced—or refilled—every few months.

She leans over the basin, and pushes her hand into the water. In a short moment, the water is comfortably hot against her skin. She feels the drain on her resources, the exhaustion seeping into her. She has spent more magic than she should have.

“It’s warm,” she says, straightening slowly so as not to stumble. “There’s soap there, on the edge.” She points it out. “I’m afraid it’s not especially fragrant, but it’s all I have for now.”

“It’s more than we could ask for,” Johanna says, and smiles again at her. The boy in her arms is fast asleep, even as she continues to rock him.

“Can you find your way back to your rooms on your own?”

“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Yosef says. He smiles, too, perhaps for the first time since they’ve met. “Thank you, Lady. Truly.”

“Hardly a lady,” she retorts, shaking her head.

“You have a Keep, and land of your own. That would make any man a Lord,” Yosef points out. “So it makes you a Lady.”

She sighs. “Just call me Eres, please.” She’s no Lady, and her father was certainly not any kind of Lord. He’d been a hustler, and little else. How he’d let this Keep come into such disrepair was only testament to that fact.

“I’ll see you in the morning then,” she says to the wife, and even the child, who still hides behind her mother’s skirts. “Have a good night.”

She turns to leave, and then considers.

“Yosef.” She calls him to her. “A moment, if you please.”

Yosef frowns, but he walks over to her, caution in his every step. “Yes?”

“I have placed my trust in you, and allowed you into my home.” She keeps her voice quiet, so that it will not carry to his wife and children. “Do not make me regret it.”

“I wouldn’t,” he promises.

“I should hope not.” She regards him coolly. “If you do, remember that you are not the only one who would suffer the consequences.” Eres glances meaningfully at his family, and she sees his expression tighten. “I believe you are a good man, and that you would do anything to keep your family safe and healthy.”

Yosef blinks at her, perhaps surprised by the sudden shift in her words.

“I hope that I’ve come to the right conclusions about you, Yosef.” Eres holds his gaze. “I can see that you are also a simple man, and that sword you carry is little more than a costume. You are a farmer, not a soldier.” He purses his lips, but he nods slowly back at her. “Do not try to be something you are not.”

He nods again. For a long moment, he is silent. “You have nothing to fear from me, Eres. My family is all that matters to me. I want not for riches or fame or—whatever else there is out there. I just want to keep them safe. I wouldn’t do anything to put them in danger.”

Eres smiles at him, and she sees him relax. “I thought so,” she agrees. “Good night, Yosef.”

“Good night, Eres.”

She nods once more at him, then makes her way back up the stairs, and to her own room. By the time she has made it to the long hall that leads to her chambers, she has to brace herself against the wall for support.

She makes it to her room, and falls into her bed. She is asleep almost before her head hits the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

ACT II   
CHAPTER II

The next morning, Eres wakes to the smell of freshly baked bread, and salted butter. With a groan, she lifts her head from her pillow and peers all around her, forgetting for a moment that she has, essentially, adopted an entire family over night.

When inspecting her room fails to produce the source of the smell, Eres reluctantly peels herself from her furs and makes her way downstairs towards the kitchen. Given the lesser chill of the stone beneath her feet, and the light streaming in through the windows, she guesses that it must be much later in the day than she’d originally planned to wake.

“Good morning.” Johanna looks like an entirely different person when she’s clean. Her hair, so darkened with grime and dirt yesterday that it had looked almost a muddy brown, is the color of flaxen wheat, a soft gold that glows bright where the light hits it. Her face is still gaunt and drawn, but the bags beneath her eyes have lessened with a good rest, and her blue eyes are bright with cheer.

“Morning,” she mumbles. Johanna is dressed simply in a skirt and apron, not unlike a serving girl. Eres wonders if it is her own clothing, or if she had found the dress in one of the rooms in a hunt for clean clothes.

The young one, Julia, sits primly at the dining table which is much too big for such a small gathering. She has to sit on her knees just to reach the table, where she eagerly shovels food into her mouth. Eres sees the remnants of a biscuit, a thick white-ish gravy, eggs, and golden brown cubes of what appears to be potatoes, mixed with onions and spices.

Eres’ mouth waters. She’s been living on stew for some time, always too lazy to put in the extra work of actually _cooking_ real food. Magic helps, but using magic to cook is a bit of a waste, and too hard to measure perfectly.

“The chimneys?” She wonders aloud, glancing at the fire in the pit of the oven.

“Yosef spent all night cleaning them out,” Johanna says, smiling. She walks over to Eres briskly, a plate in hand, packed to the brim, and almost shoves it into her hands. “He wants to earn his keep.”

“He could have waited till later,” Eres mutters, but she can’t say the food doesn’t look delicious.

“He’s a stubborn man,” Johanna chuckles. Then at once, she shoos Eres towards the table. “Eat, eat. I made enough for everyone. And,” Johanna flushes suddenly, “I used some of your food stores. It’s only right that you eat.”

“Oh,” Eres blinks, even as she sits down. Johanna is quickly at her side with a glass of hot tea. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She prefers coffee, but it’s an expensive import. Coffee is perhaps the only thing she misses from Cyrodill. She pours cream and sugar into her tea and hopes that it will wake her up.

“Not a morning person, are you?”

“No,” she says, around a mouthful of what might be the best biscuit she’s ever had. She will definitely have to keep Johanna around, if nothing else. “How long have you all been on the road?” She wonders, because she can’t imagine them being this skinny if Johanna is such a good cook.

“A couple of weeks, now,” Johanna says. She fills another plate, and sets it upon the table, places a cup of ale next to it, and then makes another, smaller plate for herself. With her own meal, she takes a glass of goat’s milk. “Our farm was just south of Dragon’s Bridge. Have you ever been there?”

“I haven’t,” she admits. “I’m new to Skyrim.”

“Picked a hell of a time to come,” says Yosef, emerging from a back door. Eres is vaguely aware that it leads to a courtyard, but she’s not quite sure what Yosef might have been doing there. She hasn’t even bothered looking at the grounds yet.

Yosef, for all his lack of sleep, looks better than yesterday as well. His hair, too, was actually blonde beneath the dirt and grime, and he has even shaved off much of his beard, leaving only a small patch of golden hair upon his chin. It makes him look far younger than Eres had initially taken him for, even with the tanned, weathered skin on his face.

“The bloody rebels’ve been makin’ a stink here for over a year now, under that bastard Ulfric.”

As if by design, Julia pipes up around a mouthful of sausage. “Skyrim is for the Nords!” She cries.

Yosef swats her lightly across her shoulder. It is enough to catch her attention, but not enough to hurt. “Don’t say that, girl. The Nords is the ones what burned our house down, remember.”

“Sorry, father,” Julia sinks into her seat. She looks at Eres, sees Eres’ pointed ears, and sinks ever further, her face turning red. “Sorry…”

Eres, at a loss for how to deal with a child’s guilt, shoots the girl what she hopes is a reassuring smile. She knows that children tend to repeat what they hear.

“Sorry,” Yosef says, even so. “Them Rebels have been yelling that all around Skyrim. I guess Julia must have heard them at some point…” He shakes his head. “We’re not like that. We don’t mind your kind.” He fumbles, stuttering. “Or—or any kind, of course. Humans, lizards—”

She snorts, nearly choking on her biscuit. “It’s fine,” she says, through her laughter. “And I believe they’re called ‘Argonians’.”

“Well, whatever they are, we’re fine with ‘em. Long as they’re good people on the inside, the outside don’t matter to us. Ain’t that right?” He elbows his daughter, who nods emphatically, her blonde ponytail flapping as she does. She’s a cute girl. Still innocent. Eres hopes she stays that way.

“Thank you, for the chimneys.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Yosef takes his seat beside his wife, and eats as though he’s not used to doing so slowly. “Least I could do, after all you’ve done for us.”

She waves a hand in dismissal. “You keep cooking meals like this, Johanna, and I’m gonna have to start paying you.”

Johanna flushes at the praise, but her smile is bright, and Eres can guess why Yosef may have chosen a woman like her. “My mother taught me when I was young. I don’t think she ever thought I’d be marrying a man like Yosef, but…” She shrugs. “I can do a lot more than just cook.”

“She’s good with animals,” Yosef insists. “Horses, cows, chickens—you name it, they love her.” He pauses a moment. “You got good land here. Both for farming and raising livestock. You could have a whole herd of whatever you might like. If it’s as big as it looks.”

Eres meets his eyes. She guesses that he’s been on the grounds, surveying the land around the Keep. There is indeed a lot of land surrounding it that belongs to her, despite none of it being inhabited. A lot of land that would do well with a farm, or with a herd that grazed. And it would help the Keep be more self sufficient, if it had its own supply rather than relying on supply runs to Rorikstead. She _was_ getting rather tired of driving the cart back and forth—it wasn’t a short trip.

Yosef was a sharp man, with experience. He also seemed to have some kind of ambition, at least. He’d taken it upon himself to do the chimneys over night, to allow Johanna to cook her a good meal, and then had casually slipped into conversation how good the land was for farming.

Eres is not simple, and she knows that Yosef means to test the water. Yosef would be hard pressed to find good land like this without paying a fortune, and as he’d told her last night, they had no coin. Yosef and his family might end up as beggars if they left here, or—she could pay them to at least get a farm started. Even if they didn’t wish to stay once winter was well and done with, she would at least have a headstart by someone who knew what they were doing.

She could see no fault to it.

“It is quite big,” she admits, slowly. “Too big for one person to handle, anyhow.” She slides her eyes to Johanna, and wonders if they’d planned this—or if Yosef had just recognized an opportunity when he saw one. By the barely restrained surprise and interest on Johanna’s face, Eres guessed that this conversation had not been expected by her, either.

“I could help you get started,” Yosef says, deceptively casual. He looks down as he dunks his biscuit into a generous amount of gravy, but she can see the furrow in his brow, and then tension in his shoulders. “Lay the groundwork for you. Let you know what kind of crops might do well. It’s a bit late for planting yet, but there’s some what can still grow if we plant them now. Wheat and the like,” he offers. “I saw the lake, too. I always wanted to try my hand at a proper irrigation system, like what they got in Cyrodiil.”

Eres was familiar with the concept, at least—directing local water to farmland so that the land would not require as much maintenance, and the soil would be rich and moist for whatever food they decided to grow there.

“You’ve got rich soil, too. Good for growing.” Yosef nods to himself more than her. “Though some of it’s got clay in it. Mostly to the west side,” he says. “You might be able to sell some of that clay if you ever wanted to. I bet there’s probably some deposits around here.”

She knows for a fact that there is, and that the last member of her family who’d lived here before it was abandoned had planned on opening a mine. Unfortunately, Sir Reynolds VII had passed of consumption before he’d managed to get started on its construction. Eres knew this, because Sir Reynolds VII had left behind a multitude of documentation on his plans for the Keep and the surrounding area within a safe in the master bedroom. He was insistent that the Keep and its lands be utilized to its full potential.

“It may be something to consider,” Eres offers. “The clay, I mean. The farming… I would rather be self-sufficient here, if at all possible. If you’re willing to work the lands here, I certainly won’t complain. I won’t be able to pay you, I’m afraid. The inheritance I have remaining must be put towards food and materials.”

Eres does not mention that even that inheritance is running thin. She imagines, at this rate, with another three mouths to feed, that her funds will run completely dry within the next year. It does not help that the shop at Rorikstead has been raising his prices for her ever since he realized she was returning regularly. She could not fault the man for his business sense, of course, but it was still irritating.

“I wouldn’t ask for money,” Yosef answers, his tone solemn. “You let me work the land, maybe build a house here of my own…” he trails off, glancing at his wife. “We’re not gonna find a better place than this to settle. We could have a farm again.”

“It would not be _your_ farm, though,” she tells him, gently. Eres does not want to be rude, but she also doesn’t want him to get the wrong impression. “You would be farming, and you may have your own home, but much of whatever is grown here would be for the Keep and its inhabitants.”

“Although,” she leans back in her seat, considering. “Depending on the success of your farm,” she starts, watching him, “you may profit from it. It will take some time, of course, but if at some point there is excess surplus, I would certainly allow you to sell it in town. I would only ask that a portion of the proceeds go to taxes.”

“Taxes?” Yosef raises his brow. “And you say you’re not a lady.”

Eres scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m not, but this Keep has never been—and will likely never be—cheap to maintain. The more that we repair and fix up, the more this place will stand out. Eventually, we will have to hire guards. Build walls. Perhaps attract traders, if we can.” She shrugs. “All of that costs money, and I only have so much of it left. I would only ask a small percentage of the profit you make from farming my lands. The rest you would be allowed to keep.”

“How small?” He asks.

Eres holds back a smirk. She likes that he is so business savvy; that he asks questions instead of jumping into a deal head first. If he were not a farmhand, he might be a good trader, too. “Thirty per cent. For every hundred septims you profit, I would see thirty.”

“So seventy would go to me, and mine.” He looks at his wife and children. “It would take some months, perhaps a year, for us to have enough crops for a harvest. Do you have any plans for livestock?”

“Can you hunt?” She asks, instead.

He frowns, but nods. “I have some skill with a bow, though not a lot. I spent most of the time at the farm, so we raised our meat.”

“Understandable.” She nods. “We have another month, perhaps, until the game around here goes to ground for winter. I’d like you to help me set some traps and snares before then. We can stockpile some of the meat, smoke the rest, and sell the skins at Rorikstead. The money will go toward supplying the storehouse, until such time that we have a harvest and no longer need it.”

“Sounds fair,” he nods. “It’ll be a small farm at first, with only me working it. But once we get started, maybe a few years down the line, we could hire some help and expand it.”

She smiles at him. He has an enterprising mind. With a bit of proper education, he could be a force to be reckoned with. “You have a sharp instinct for this sort of thing, Yosef.”

Eres stands, and reaches over the table. “Consider it done, then, Yosef. You have the con—the grounds are yours. I trust your judgment.”

He shakes her outstretched hand, and nods. His smile looks carefully restrained, as though he is trying desperately to grin. “It’d be my pleasure.”

“I can cook for you,” Johanna offers suddenly. “And my daughter can help clean around the Keep during the days.”

Eres wishes that she had a servant—or a butler. Someone that could take little Julia under their wing and tutor her during the days. At such a young age, Julia was impressionable, and would soak up any knowledge like a sponge. The sky would be the limit for her if she had someone to teach her.

“Does Julia know how to read?”

“Ah…” Johanna glances at Yosef. “No. We’d… been busy these past few years. And I’m not very good myself…”

Eres smiles at the shy little Julia, who ducks behind her plate. “I will teach her what I can, in exchange for your cooking. She doesn’t need to worry about cleaning for now.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“She seems a bright girl,” Eres deflects. “And I loved reading at her age. It will serve her well when she grows older.”


	3. Chapter 3

ACT I  
CHAPTER III

Rorikstead was not Eres’ favorite place to be. Not just because the man at the general store was a right cunt, but because Rorikstead was a point of content for the Stormcloaks and Imperials. It seemed that every time she went to Rorikstead for supplies, there was a change of hands in who controlled the town.

This time, it appears to be the Stormcloaks. The guard at the gates sends her a suspicious look from beneath his helmet, but he seems to decide against harassing her for the time being. The cold rain has made all the guard retreat to the walls, where they have shelter from the elements.

She drives the cart past them, even as her ears flick restlessly beneath her hood. She’s never particularly liked wearing hoods, as they irritate the pointed tips of her ears, but in Stormcloak territory… It was better safe than sorry.

She draws her cart to a stop in front of the general goods store, and hops down from the bench seat. Yosef hops down after her, huffing as his boots sink into the mud beneath their feet.

“Tell me why you need me again,” he mutters, pulling his cloak tighter around him.

“The man who runs this shop knows me,” Eres explains patiently. She hitches the horses, though more for appearance than necessity. They are well trained, and she knows they won’t run off. “He keeps raising his prices every time I come to town. He knows he’s the only shop near Fellburg that has the supplies I need.”

Yosef snorts. “Smart man.”

Eres shrugs. She has to give him that. If she was a strapping young merchant, she might do the same. “For you, he might give you better pricing.” She watches as he hauls a large crate from the back of the cart towards the front door. “Don’t accept anything less than—”

“Yes, Mother,” Yosef drawls good-naturedly. “I know how to barter, Eres.”

She rolls her eyes at his back. Eres steps under the awning of the front of the shop for shelter from the rain, and peers out at the small town spread around her.

From the tracks in the mud, it seems Rorikstead has been particularly busy today. And when she sniffs the air, she can scent the lingering smell of torch smoke and polished leather—and stale blood.

She frowns. Imperials? The stormcloaks didn’t use the same kind of leather polish that Imperials did. She would recognize the stench of Horker blubber anywhere—the polish in the air was chemical in nature, with a sharp, bitter tang to it. Only Imperials, and well off ones at that, used such high quality polish for their armor. Had a contingent come through here recently?

It would have had to be recent, for her to be able to smell it even through the rain. It was strange, then, that there were no signs of battle.

Eres eyes the Stormcloak guard lazily making his way down the main road, turning his head here and there. He doesn’t look particularly alert, and there’s a half empty wineskin at his hip.

Could the Stormcloak soldiers have reached a deal with the Imperials here, of all places? Rorikstead, while nowhere near a bustling city, was indeed a halfway point between two extremes – the Stormcloak-controlled Markarth a couple of days to the west, and Dragon Bridge just a day’s journey northward. It would make sense that it would be a trade hub for both parties, but she couldn’t imagine them abstaining from killing each other long enough to reach a truce.

Perhaps she’s mistaken.

Eres looks away from the tracks on the roads. Perhaps she doesn’t care. The war has nothing to do with her. As long as it doesn’t come to Fellburg, she’s satisfied with staying well out of its way.

Just then, Yosef emerges from the shop, with an empty crate. He tosses it haphazardly into the back of the cart, and moves to retrieve another. They’d had a good week, hunting, and a pack of wolves had made the mistake of coming upon a wandering giant just on the other side of the lake. Their pelts weren’t of the best quality, but wolf pelts were still worth significantly more than your typical deer or hare, even in poor condition.

Yosef grabs the last crate of pelts, and approaches her. “Once I’ve brought these inside, we’ll finalize the price. If you don’t want him to know I’m with you, you might want to hide out somewhere until the deal’s done.”

She nods at him, and jerks her head in the direction of the tavern. “I’ll wait there, then. We can have a drink and warm up before we head back.”

“Gladly,” Yosef agrees, and he shuffles back inside.

She steps away from the store, and makes her way to the Frostfruit Inn.

“Good afternoon, friend. Care to have a drink?”

Eres drops her hood around her shoulders, and sends the man behind the bar a polite smile. “Mralki, it’s nice to see you.”

“Ah, come back again have you?” Mralki is a decent sort – a retired soldier and former Imperial. He’s a hardworking man, though if you heard his son tell it, a bit overbearing. “Want your usual?”

“I’m waiting for someone.” She takes a seat at the bar, anyways, because the heat from the fire pit feels good on her back.

“Oh?” Mralki’s eyebrows raise high on his forehead. “Have you finally caught the attention of a strapping young lad?”

“’Finally’,” she repeats, and snorts. “No, he’s working for me. He has a wife and kids.”

“Ah, too bad. Must be a good man for you to hire him. You seem to have a discerning taste.”

She shrugs helplessly. “I’m good at reading people, I suppose.” She turns her head, and eyes the Vigilant seated in the corner. He hasn’t dropped his hood upon entering the inn, and he sits hunched over his meal like he expects someone to steal it from him. She doesn’t know why, but something about that one rubbed her the wrong way. “Having problems with Daedra, are you?”

“Hardly,” Mralki scoffs. “Probably just another rumor of some old woman casting spells in the hills.” He rolls his eyes as he cleans a glass, shaking his head. “You know nothing ever happens here in Rorikstead.”

“You might be thankful for that,” she muses. “I noticed a lot of tracks on the road today. Fresh ones. Soldiers moving through?”

“Mm,” he confirms. “Imperials. A whole battalion of them. I guess the boys here realized they didn’t stand a chance against them, being as outnumbered as they were. They didn’t even bother fighting them-just let them right on through.”

“Hmm…” Odd. Though she could understand why they wouldn’t fight, she couldn’t imagine that the Stormcloak leadership would take such cowardice lightly. “And Ulfric’s alright with his soldiers just letting the enemy mosey on through?”

“You didn’t hear?” Mralki asks, looking surprised. “Ulfric got caught by the Imperials—some ambush near the border. They meant to execute him at Helgen. They say a dragon swept out of the sky and allowed him to escape, and then burned Helgen to the ground. Far as I know, Ulfric’s probably holed up in Windhelm where the Imperials can’t reach him like the coward he is.”

“A _dragon_?” Eres makes a face. “Aren’t you too old to believe in such tall tales?”

“Aye, but it’s true. Met a man from Riverwood what says he saw it flying overhead, as big as a house and as black as the night. All of Whiterun’s been in a right mess trying to figure out how to stop that thing. But it hasn’t attacked again yet.”

“How do you know he wasn’t just lying?” She asks skeptically.

“Well,” Mralki shrugs. “Supposedly, the whole thing happened a few weeks ago. You know it’s been rainy and cold of late, aye?” She nods. “I’ve met more than one traveler what says Helgen is still burning, even now. Only dragon fire lasts that long.”

Or, Eres thinks, perhaps there was just enough dry wood in the rubble to keep it from going out completely. Mralki however, seems entirely convinced that there is a dragon out there somewhere, flying overhead. Let him believe what he wants.

The door opens, and in stumbles Yosef, spluttering. Just as Eres is about to ask what’s happened to him, she hears the crash of thunder overhead.

“The storm kicked up out there fast,” Yosef huffs. He pulls off his hood and shakes the rain from his hair. “I hope you’ve got something warm, innkeep.”

“Always do,” Mralki nods. He pours Yosef a cup of hot ale, and offers the same to Eres. “This your … employee, is it?” 

“Mm,” she confirms. “Mralki, this is Yosef. Yosef, Mralki.”

“Nice to meet you.” Yosef gives Mralki a polite smile. He drains half of his stein in a matter of seconds. “Good ale.”

“Always,” Mralki says. “How’s that building going? In—what was it, Fellburg?”

“Well enough,” Eres admits. “We’ve made some progress, but the rains have made it rough. The lake flooded.”

“Ah, was it bad?”

“Not especially.” Well, not with her magic to help contain it. She’d quite literally passed out from the exertion on the spot, but it was that or let their newly planted crops be completely washed out just after they’d finally finished planting them all. “We’ve managed.”

“That is good news.”

Yosef and Mralki speak of more general topics, but Eres finds her gaze drawn to the strange Vigilant once more. Why would a Vigilant travel alone, and with no rumors of Daedra activity nearby? Weren’t they supposed to travel in groups, in small patrols? She had never seen one by themselves before.

She supposes it could be a soldier, merely masquerading as a Vigilant, but something about him still strikes her as ill. She will be glad to avoid him.


	4. Chapter 4

ACT I  
CHAPTER IV

The days grow steadily colder, but Yosef insists on continuing his work on the fields. His irrigation system is rudimentary, but, in his words, he wants it to be done before the fields thaw in spring, so that it is ready by time they plant for the next season. Eres is not a farmer, so she does not question his logic.

Johanna continues to be near indispensable. For all that she is a brilliant cook, she is also an experienced bookkeeper. Eres learns from Yosef that the woman had also kept books for the farms, and kept track of the family’s finances. Yosef, he said, had no talent for arithmetic.

Eres hasn’t, either, though she knows enough to get by. She gladly allows Johanna to take over, not only because she would rather not do it herself, but also because she knows that Johanna wishes desperately to feel useful beyond just serving them meals.

Eres, for her part, offers what tutoring she can, when she can manage it. There are many books left in the old, dusty library, and she finds that Julia is a quick study and an attentive listener—though the girl vastly prefers the tales of grand adventures and magic and romances to that of history and sciences.

Little Neil grows plump and healthy, and has a crib for himself in each room they frequent—the kitchen, the family’s bedroom, and lastly the library, where Eres and Julia sometimes watch over him while Johanna and Yosef busy themselves elsewhere.

“How are our stores doing?” Eres asks over breakfast. She will miss Johanna’s cooking when she next leaves. She misses coffee more.

“Well,” Johanna smiles at her, but it is strained at the edges. “But it will be tight for winter. We have enough meats, but produce…” She trails off. “And the coffers are…”

Eres knew. She nods. “I plan to find work here soon,” she tells Johanna. “I won’t be home for some time, but I’ll be able to send funds back through the courier service. They can… generally be trusted,” she mutters. “Even so, I have a spell that can disguise the coin I send you. I hope you’ll use it wisely.”

“Of course,” Johanna nods. “I’m honored you trust me so.”

“You haven’t given me a reason not to,” Eres shrugs. “And what coin you use, I know it will go toward your family.”

“Have you noticed the campers outside, at the edges of the property?”

Eres has. “Let them stay, so long as they cause no issue. They’ve been helping Yosef with the work, to my knowledge. They can use the rooms on the first floor for shelter, if they like.” She notices Johanna’s hesitation and adds, “If you trust them.”

Johanna hums thoughtfully. “Have you thought of letting them build on your land? There must be a reason why they’re here.”

“Travelling laborers, I’d expect.” She shrugs. “If they wish to have land here, they may have it—if they have something to offer.”

“The man, Tomlen, he has some experience with smithing.” Yosef says as he enters. His trousers are caked with hard-packed mud that has long since dried, as are his weathered hands. “He mentioned to me that he might have interest in building a forge. If you so will it.”

Despite all of Eres’ attempts to convince him otherwise, Yosef dips his head in respect. She sighs through her nose, knowing that he will not refrain from deferring to her in such a way. He is a simple man, and in his eyes, she is a Lady. No matter how much she might try to tell him otherwise.

“Has he any examples of his work?”

“His blade,” Yosef answers. “You’ve seen it?”

She has, and she’d wondered before at its craftsmanship. “If he’s so talented, he’s more than welcome to start construction upon a forge. We have those clay deposits he might use for its construction.”

Yosef hums, leaning down first to grab a bite of a biscuit from Johanna’s plate, then to kiss her cheek when she protests half-heartedly. “We may need still to purchase some materials for it from Rorikstead. And those he can practice his craft with.”

Eres considers it, and glances at Johanna.

“We can afford a bit, to get started,” Johanna agrees. “But he must make something he can put to market if he wants more after that.”

“If nothing else, it will provide a source of revenue.”

“Does he have any skill with armor?” Eres asks. “Leatherworking or tanning?”

“His boy does,” Yosef answers. “Apprenticed briefly with a tanner somewhere in Markarth, I think,” he shrugs. “He’s a terrible hunter, but he can do well with leather and hides.”

“Have him craft something that can be sold easily, as well. The pelts alone won’t pay for the smithy.”

“Easy enough.” Yosef nods.

Johanna frowns. “A smithy must be located outside,” she starts. “It will attract the attention of those that might steal from us. Bandits and the like.”

“We’ll have to hire guards,” Eres agrees. “I’ve considered it myself before. It’s one of the reasons I’ll be leaving. I’ll need to make a good amount of coin to hire permanent patrols for this place.”

“Well, once the smithy gets going, hopefully you won’t have to work anymore,” Yosef says. “Not befitting of a lady to go adventuring as you might.”

She stands, throwing him an easy smirk. “It is a good thing I’m not a lady, then.”

Yosef sends her a dubious look, but beneath it, she sees a tinge of concern. He, more than anyone, knows how dangerous the roads of Skyrim have become.

But, Eres is a mage, and she has always had some skill with a bow. She’s never had trouble with dispatching the odd bandit or two, and she doesn’t plan on starting now.

“You remember how to use the message parchment?”

“Lemon ink,” Johanna answers. “And press the stamp upon it when ready to send.”

The parchment was something Eres had enchanted herself, as a way for her to send quick correspondences back and forth while she was on the road. They would be able to send her messages through it, though she would not be able to respond in the same manner. If they had any trouble, the matching parchment within her bag would release a tiny whine inaudible by human ears, and she would be able to pull it and read the words written by Johanna or Yosef immediately.

She hadn’t yet figured out a way to make the communication go both ways, but it would at least keep them in contact where she would know what was happening at Fellburg at all times.

“Good. I will send any missives via Imperial courier.” It was the only service she would trust, as the Imperials were typically too hung up on honor and loyalty to take liberties with parcels or messages sent, even by civilians. It would cost more to use their service, of course, but it would be worth it for the guarantee.

“Do you know when you’ll return?”

Eres shrugs. “That depends on how much luck I find. But I’ll keep in touch as often as I can. I trust you to run the estate while I’m gone.”

Yosef and Johanna both nod grimly, solemn expressions on their faces. It is perhaps more responsibility than either of them have ever had, but she trusts them to wield it well.

Eres turns, and goes to ready her horse for travel. She will be gone by midday, and there is no telling when she might return.

Eres tells no one that she doubles back to hug little Julia and Neil before she goes.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that you’ve got a thief problem,” Eres says, needlessly. She’s certain that all of Riverwood heard the two of them arguing. “I might be able to help.”

The man, all dark hair and serious eyes, regards her critically. He looks her up and down with a critical eye, a corner of his lip curling in distaste. “You think you can help me?” He scoffs. “Are you even old enough to be out on your own, Elf?”

Eres quirks a brow, but she doesn’t miss the way the woman next to him swats his arm. “I’ve seen enough summers to know how to deal with a few thieves.” She brandishes a flame in one hand, just long enough for them to see it, and puts it out. She ignores the twinge of pain in her right temple. “For the right price, I could retrieve whatever has been stolen.”

The man exchanges glances with the woman beside him – they look similar enough that she guesses they must be siblings, rather than husband and wife. Then again, Nords were a strange people. She wouldn’t put it past them.

“It’s—a precious family heirloom,” the man says. “A golden claw, about this big. Those thieves barged in here and ran off with it! It’s _priceless_!”

“I saw them heading up towards Bleakfalls Barrow,” the woman says. “I can show you the way.”

“Like hell you will!”

“How else is she supposed to find where they are if I don’t go with her?”

“Absolutely not! You go as far as the bridge and no farther!”

The woman sighs heavily. “ _Fine_ ,” she mutters. “Come, I will show you.”

Eres holds up a hand. “My payment, first.”

“You’ll get your payment when you bring me back my claw!”

Well. This man certainly wouldn’t be winning any awards for hospitality. “I meant, we should discuss terms. How much are you offering?”

He sneers at her. “How much do you want?”

Eres regards him coolly. “That depends entirely on how much this claw is worth to you. You did say it was priceless. What’s stopping me from retrieving it and selling it myself for a profit?”

The man’s sneer twists into a scowl. “You bring it back here and I’ll make it worth your while. A thousand septims!”

Eres keeps her expression carefully neutral. That was about twice as much as even her inflated asking price would have been. “We have a deal, then.” She gestured to the woman. “Lead away.”

“I’m sorry about my brother Lucian,” the woman says, as they exit the store. “He’s always been like this. He’s a nice man, deep down, but he still thinks of me as his kid sister. I’m Camilla, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eres says automatically, though she’s hardly interested. Camilla is pretty enough, she supposes, but not her type. A bit too naïve for her tastes. “I’m Eres.”

Camilla leads her down the main road in Riverwood, past the tavern, and out to the beginnings of a bridge that crosses the river to the northwest. Eres knows, from her maps, that crossing that bridge and turning northeasterly would bring her to Whiterun. She’s never been, but she knows of it.

“If you follow the path into the mountains, there,” Camilla points to the other fork across the bridge, leading in a winding path into the hills, “you’ll come upon Bleakfalls Barrow. There are bandits thereabouts. You should be careful when you go up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She’d expected as much, from Lucian’s description of the men that robbed him. Thieves from the guild weren’t the kind who were generally seen or heard from – these thieves were amateurs, opportunists. They had seen an opening and ran with it. Literally.

“Any idea how long a hike it is?”

“Not long,” Camilla answers. “A few hours, maybe. But the barrow runs deep into the mountains, I’ve heard. You may be able to hole up there over night, if it gets too cold.”

Eres makes a face. She hopes it won’t come to that, but she has to admit that Camilla has a point. It is already past midday. She may not reach the barrow until nightfall, with the nights coming so early with winter.

“Soon, then,” she says, and bids Camilla farewell.

Eres begins the long hike up the mountains, and is ever glad for the magic that keeps her warm as the temperature plummets the higher she climbs. 

There are some things about being an elf that makes her life harder, but one thing she will always be glad for is her senses. She finds that it is near impossible for even the sneakiest of bandits to get the jump on her, and when she approaches Bleakfalls Barrow, the air is still enough for her to hear their footsteps in the snow.

She counts four of them milling about, two of which she has seen patrolling the perimeter nearest her. She dispatches one with a wellplaced arrow when the other one turns to continue his pacing, and cheers silently when his body tips over the edge and falls quietly into a snowbank below.

She waits patiently for the other to return, and her arrow finds him just as she sees him turn in place, confused, looking for his partner. He lets out a scream, and topples to the ground.

The other two quickly come to investigate. One she kills instantly, the other she has to duck behind cover to avoid his shot, and while he’s pulling back for another, she fires an arrow that, unfortunately, lands squarely in his stomach rather than his heart. He crumbles to the ground, groaning in pain.

When she climbs the steps, she makes sure to slit his throat and end his life quickly. A stomach wound is no way to go.

The door is not quiet when she opens it, scraping against the snowy ground beneath it and the wind howls through the opening. Despite this, the shadows of the bandits she sees just inside the barrow don’t even move, and when the door shuts behind her and the wind dies away, she can hear their voices rising, see them gesturing sharply at each other.

“I say we leave ‘em!” Says one of them, a male’s voice, but not the one whose silhouette she can see against the flickering of their campfire.

“We can’t just _leave_ them—”

“Arvel took off with that damn claw and meant to leave us behind! He gets what’s comin’ to him!”

“And what about our loot, huh? We just supposed to just let him run off with it?!”

“From what I saw, he ain’t gonna do much runnin’,” says the first man again, with a dark chuckle.

Ah, so they’d been betrayed. Typical of bandits—they were the sort that were far too selfish to ever truly have any camaraderie amongst them.

She nocks an arrow, and lets it fly. The first bandit drops almost soundlessly, marked only by the fearful exclamations of those who saw him fall. She darts across the shadows away from her first firing position, knowing they will be looking for her – and if they had any sense about them, they’d look first in the direction her arrow had come from.

Sure enough, she sees one of the men come around the pillar, sword at the ready, shield up in front of his torso and face, advancing slowly in the general direction she had just been in. Too bad for him, his shield is at an angle from her vantage point, and does no good against the arrow she fires into the vulnerable point between his neck and shoulder.

He doesn’t die instantly, this one. His hand reaches to clutch at the arrow even as he drops to the ground, but she knows he will be dead soon. If, in his shock, he pulls the arrow out – like some men are wont to do – he will only die quicker.

With her two companions felled, the lone bandit remaining hesitates, ducking behind the very same pillar.

Eres ducks out of her hiding spot, bow drawn, knowing the woman hasn’t got a shield.

“Good evening,” she calls evenly.

The woman freezes, eyes snapping to hers, and then her face contorts into a twisted grimace. “Shoulda known it was a dirty elf!” She raises her sword hand, snarling, “You shoulda stuck to your forests—”

Eres sighs, rolling her eyes. “I did consider letting you live.” And then she looses her arrow.

Just for good measure, she looses a second as the woman clutches at the one sprouting from her chest. It has nothing at all to do with her temper.

“Idiots.”

Eres bends down to search their bodies, but as she’d expected, the mysterious claw she’d been sent to retrieve was not on them.

Beyond their makeshift camp, she can see that the floor dips into a lower hall, with even dimmer lighting than that in the entrance. She can see that someone has taken the care to light torches upon the walls, but it does little to fight the shadows within.

“Wonderful,” she mutters.

Eres isn’t _afraid_ of the dark. She just happens to not like it very much. Too many dangers like to creep around in the shadows, and sadly she hadn’t been blessed with the ability to see in the dark. She could thank her father for that one.

With a sigh, Eres pulls out another arrow, and rests it against her bow so that she can be ready to draw at a moments notice. With her free hand, she conjures a singular orb of spectacular light and sends it to glide lazily down that first hall.


End file.
